Page 106 of Fury
Now we're creating life. Building a future. Transforming darkness into light.
"I love you," I whisper.
He looks up, his eyes reflecting everything I feel. "And I love you. Both of you. More than my own life."
In the quiet of our bedroom, with the afternoon sun painting golden patterns across the floor, we begin to dream, of nursery colors and tiny clothes. Of first steps and bedtime stories of a child with my eyes and Greyson's smile.
A child who will know nothing but love and protection, who will grow up surrounded by a family bound not just by blood but by choice, by loyalty, by a devotion that survived the worst the world could throw at it.
Our child. Our future. Our greatest adventure yet.
And as Greyson's hand traces gentle patterns across my stomach, I know with absolute certainty that whatever challenges parenthood brings, we'll face them the same way we've faced everything else.
Together
"Push, Livie! One more big push!" Meadow's voice cuts through the haze of pain that's consumed me for the past eighteen hours.
I bear down with what little strength I have left, a scream tearing from my throat as my body works to bring our child into the world.
"That's it, baby. You've got this," Mom whispers in my ear, her hand steady around mine despite the death grip I have on her fingers.
Greyson paces at the foot of the bed, his face ashen, eyes wild with helpless panic. "Is she supposed to be in this much pain? Something's wrong. I know something's wrong."
"Nothing's wrong," Meadow assures him without looking up. "This is exactly how it's supposed to happen. Now, come here and support your wife."
He's instantly at my side, opposite my mother. "I'm here, Livie. I'm right here."
"Stop pacing," I gasp between contractions. "You're making me nervous."
"I can see the head!" Meadow announces. "One more push, Livie. Give me everything you've got."
Greyson's face goes even paler. "The head? Already? Shouldn't we wait for?—"
"Greyson," I growl, feeling another contraction building. "Shut up and hold my hand."
The final push consumes my entire being, the pain cresting to something beyond comprehension before suddenly—release. A strange emptiness followed immediately by the most beautiful sound I've ever heard—our baby's first cry, strong and indignant.
"A beautiful baby girl!" Meadow exclaims, her professional demeanor cracking as tears spring to her eyes.
But Greyson stands frozen, staring at the tiny, wriggling form as Meadow cleans her quickly. His mouth opens and closes, no sound emerging.
"Dad?" Meadow says gently. "Would you like to cut the cord?"
He moves forward mechanically, following Meadow's instructions with trembling hands. When the task is complete, she wraps our daughter in a blanket and holds her out to him.
"Here you go. Meet your daughter."
His arms rise automatically but hesitate at the last moment. "I can't—she's so small. What if I hurt her?"
"You won't," I assure him, my heart swelling at his vulnerability. "Take her, Greyson."
With infinite care, he accepts the tiny bundle, cradling her against his broad chest. The moment she settles into his arms, something transforms in his expression—wonder, terror, and overwhelming love colliding in his features.
"Hi," he whispers, voice cracking. "I'm your dad."
Our daughter, as if recognizing his voice from the months he spent talking to my belly, quiets immediately. Her tiny face turns toward the sound, eyes still tightly shut.
"She knows you," Mom says, wiping tears from her cheeks. "She knows exactly who you are."
